Alistair lay on a bed, his body burned with pain. He could not see but he sensed light around him. There was some kind of fabric blocking his view and all he could hear was the echo of something
snipping.

Cyrus stood above him snapping a pair of surgical scissors, open and close whilst Alistair lay down, bandaged from head to toe. First, he cut the air a few times, enjoying the sound it made then
slowly cut holes on Alistair’s bandages.

Alistair felt the steel against his skin, instead of it cooling his burnt skin, it aggravated the pain. He tried to move his head.

Alistair stilled until Cyrus finished cutting the holes in the bandages, allowing him to breathe and see.

“Dear Alistair, you got yourself into a burnt tangle,” said Cyrus, analysing the blood seeping through the bandages. “You missed dinner and we had roast duck.” He snipped the scissor in the air,
they made a cold, metal slicing sound.

Alistair heard his name, but he could not open his eyes nor could he move. “Esther,” he whispered bleakly.

“Esther, didn’t join us either,” said Cyrus, smiling and he turned to sit on the chair near Alistair’s bed. “Well, dear Alistair. Since you are able to speak, would you mind letting us know who got
you tangled into a burnt crisp?”

“He should not be answering any questions,” advised Doctor Barded, glancing at the heart monitor. He took down Alistair’s heart rate and temperature on a note pad.

“Should he be telling stories then?” asked Cyrus, snipping the scissor while he span around in the chair.

Doctor Barded sighed and shook his head at Cyrus’ humour. “He should rest, whatever instrument was used to inflict those burns, it was not meant for him to survive. I am surprised he is still
living. It burnt half of his bones off,” said Doctor Barded.

“Doctor Barded!” exclaimed Cyrus. “Can’t you see our dearest Alistair is a fighter? He wouldn’t easily burn to death by a lousy instrument. He is a Blood Bounded member and those are the type to
die by a swing of the sword where the head gets sliced off,” he said, smiling sinisterly as he snapped the scissors.

Doctor Barded did not say anything. He walked over to his next patient, Guard Eric. “Eric should wake up in the next hour. Tell him to stop running into objects. He had a fractured skull, he could
have died,” Doctor Barded told Cyrus.

“A shame. A real shame,” said Cyrus, disappointed that Eric had survived. “Our Dearest Eric is no fighter but keeps living. The seconds must be fond of him, it must be the loyalty or all that
armour.”

“Cyrus, do not encourage him,” said Doctor Barded. He sat down by his desk after inspecting Guard Eric. “Only his bones have recovered, we wrapped his entire body in bandages even if he is undead
and Blood Bounded, he will have scars and I am unsure if his body will completely function.”

“The bandages look like they need to be replaced, they are smudged in blood, black and....” said Cyrus, trying to pick what other substances he saw on the bandages. “Skin,” he finally said.

“It’s part of the healing. He should stay like that for a day or even a week,” advised Doctor Barded. He stood to leave. “I am going to call it a night while I still have a chance. Do not forget to
tell Eric to be careful.”

“Yes, yes. Doctor Barded. But even if we do, we can’t possibly tell every single item to be careful of Guard Eric. If something happens to fall on him and he was careful, he would still lie here,”
said Cyrus, shooing the scissors at Doctor Barded as he left.

Cyrus turned to Alistair. “Are you ready to speak?” he asked. “You don’t have to speak fast, we must take Doctor Barded doctor’s opinion into account.”

Alistair swallowed and his throat hurt, he tried to open his eyes. He sensed the light more strongly than before and forced his eyes to fully open but wished he could shut them when the first thing
he saw was Cyrus’ face with a pair of scissors, but his eyes remained open.

Cyrus snapped the scissors closed. “Looks like you can see. Isn’t Doctor Barded a genius!” he exclaimed. “Now, now let me not stop you, continue your story. Who was the person that burnt you into a
crisp?”

“Ner,” said Alistair, finding it hard to breathe and blink. Every time he tried to close and open his eyes, he felt pain. “The Son of Death,” he croaked.

“Isn’t he a fast, that sly cockroach found you rather quickly,” said Cyrus. He thought about the Son of Death whilst touching the sharp edge of the scissors. The Son of Death powers included
finding the undead but he knew the Clock did not have such powers. He thought more about it, trailing the sharp edge of the scissor with his fingertips.

“Tracking devices,” he answered his thoughts but then thought more about his answer. If the Son of Death could track Alistair, it would mean he knew where the rest of the undead were – well the
ones that mattered.

“What shall we do, dear Alistair?” asked Cyrus, rhetorically. He played with the scissors in his hands. “Shall we keep you alive? Or should we kill you?” he asked, snapping the scissors open and
shut making that crisp cutting sound echo in the air. “I can’t decide which is more beneficial,” he said, but then he grinned as an idea crept into his head. “Alive, definitely alive,” he decided
in a whisper.

Alistair’s eyes were fixed on the pair of scissors that Cyrus held, every time he swung or snipped it closed, he was fearful that it would find its way down his throat.

“Dear Alistair, I have a proposition. One you should consider and think deeply about,” said Cyrus, saying it as if Alistair had no choice in the matter. “In one hour I will kill you.”

“What?” Alistair croaked in startled pain.

“In one hour I will kill you,” said Cyrus, playfully. His eyes turned a dark silver. “I understand that Doctor Barded said you should rest for the whole night even a week, but aren’t we all better
than some silly doctor’s advice?” he laughed. “A second opinion was sought from me and you and we both agree that I will kill you in one hour,” he said, grinning with a partial look of sanity and
madness in his eyes.

“And the hour starts now,” said Cyrus, rather humorously. He walked to Doctor Barded’s desk and found a clock. He placed it on Alistair’s bandaged chest, ensuring that Alistair could see the
ticking seconds pass by.

“Exactly at midnight, I will hunt you down and kill you. But if you are still here I might get Guard Eric to kill you. Doctor Barded said he will wake up within the hour. Eric isn’t too fond of
you,” smiled Cyrus, showing all his teeth.

Alistair blinked in disbelief, even though it hurt to blink, he couldn't help it.

“I’ll check on you in an hour then, have to obey the visitation hours,” said Cyrus and he snapped the scissors within an inch of Alistair’s face.

Alistair swallowed and continued to blink, unsure if he heard correctly. Cyrus was insane, he thought as his heart beat rapidly.

“Get some rest and prepare any last words,” said Cyrus, almost like he cared. “Remember, time waits for no one, no longer how long we wait,” he said slowly, locking his maddening eyes with
Alistair’s’ then he stabbed the scissors into the bed, inches from Alistair’s head.

Alistair gulped again. He was frozen and not because of the pain in his body.

Cyrus gazed at Alistair dangerously as he tightly gripped the scissors. “There was a crease on the sheet,” he said playfully then smiled. He let go of the scissors, leaving it erectly plunged
within the bed.

Cyrus walked to the door but before he left, he paused and turned around. “Oh, yes before I forget. Doctor Barded requested that one of us, more you than me to tell Guard Eric to be careful when he
wakes up even though he might kill you before then,” he said humorously and left.

Alistair did not move for ten minutes after Cyrus had left. His eyes were fixed on the silver scissors that were an inch from his head and his mind kept replaying Cyrus stabbing the scissor into
the bed. But after the ten minutes, he calmed down to reality and he could finally hear the loud ticking seconds of the clock on his chest. It pressurised him to get up.

He tried to move but his body was in too much pain, only his toes and fingers twitched. He sighed internally, trying his best to lift his head but it would not listen to his brain. It lay
motionless, facing the silver scissors. He slowly, very slowly even though it ached every particle in his body, turned his head and found Guard Eric asleep.

A sharp memory of Cyrus flashed past his eyes – Cyrus had said Eric would wake up within the hour and Alistair would die at the end of the hour. He turned his head to face the clock in front of him
and realised he had wasted twenty minutes, just staring at Eric and the ticking clock but at least his neck moved more swiftly.

But he had to move his other limbs, his skin felt like it was on fire and when he tried to urge his body to move, it was like his skin was peeling. The bandages rubbed hard against his skin,
burning and scraping, digging into his flesh. The pain was unbearable but he would not give up. He needed to move, no matter how painful it was, he needed to move and get out of here! He needed to
survive for Esther. He tried again with renewed strength, forcing his legs to move and was surprised they actually shifted slightly to the left.

He succeeded and was relieved. His body had not given up on him after all. He could manage, he thought. If he could escape this, he would definitely find Esther. For her he could do anything.

He took in a breath and held it, forcing his left leg to shift all the way to the floor. And it did, not only did his left leg move, his right leg followed along and then his chest rose. He found
he was able to sit on the bed and watched the ticking clock tumble to the floor.

“Come on, Alistair,” he said, encouraging himself. “You can do this,” he croaked. “You’ve walked before, one step at a time.”

He tried to stand up but fell back down, the ticking of the clock grew louder. He took in another breath and leaned onto the bed, stabilising his feet on the floor. When they touched the floor,
they burnt with new pain. At first his feet were mushy, they did not have enough strength to steady his body but then they managed to keep him up. He wobbled forward, every step igniting a new
pain.

He took in breaths, trying to keep the pain at bay as he limped. He made it half way to the door, leaning on the walls, tables – whatever could aid him from stumbling. He cautiously kept an eye on
Guard Eric as he hobbled through the room – if he woke up and wanted to fight, Alistair would be dead in less than the hour Cyrus had promised.

He finally reached the door and breathed heavily. Every step took a strain and it burnt but he continued to find a way out of this place. He opened the door and saw a dark hallway. This damn place
was filled with hallways, he thought, at least they were narrow. He leaned against the wall and dragged his body forward, he was tired and sore but kept going, there was a window at the end of the
hallway. He wondered how many minutes had passed, he recalled he had about thirty minutes when he found his feet but now he could make out how many he had. It seemed like an eternity walking down
this alley, the window seemed so far away.

“Alistair, just a few more steps,” he said, motivating himself. Once he reached the window, he collapsed against the windowsill, resting for a moment. The window was open. All he needed to do was
lift himself and climb out, he could not really tell the distance of the ground from the window. But this was the basement, he thought and used all his strength to climb out. But the basement never
had windows, the thought came later when he heard a door open in the hallway and found himself tumbling down from the second floor to the ground outside.

Alistair body shook with renewed pain, scraping and burns. He lay facing the night sky, there were no stars in sight just strange trees and a full glistening moon. He had to get up, he had made
this far, he couldn't give up yet. He tried his level best to get up and realised, it wasn’t the fall that hurt – the fall actually numbed his body but what hurt was the getting up and moving.

After the tenth try his body obeyed him, he stood up and his feet stepped forward while he leaned and grasped on trees and branches. He kept limping, it seemed like he was walking deeper and deeper
into the forest but he could not tell. His eyes were watery and blurry.

Every movement he made forced his skin to scrape against the bandages making his skin burn. Nonetheless he continued to walk on and after a while, the pain seemed to numb, he could no longer feel
the stones and twigs that poked and stabbed his feet but he knew his feet were bleeding.

“Where are you going?” he asked himself, he tried to keep awake while he walked but his eyes wanted to close.

“Stay awake a few more hours, dammit. You owe yourself that much,” he said and his eyes tried to obey, even though they were watery and blurry. The darkness of the night did not help, but his eyes
remained open and then, they seem to notice someone sitting against a stump of a tree.

The person wore a white gown, she was easily visible in the moonlight. He drew closer towards her, like a moth to a flame. She looked so bright and warm, it was the first light he had seen besides
the moon.

He eagerly limped towards her, finding her presence comforting but as he kept getting closer and closer, he began noticing that she was familiar to him. Her brown hair was long and lush. Her lips
were puffy and pink and her eyes... they were green – filled with life.

“Esther!” croaked Alistair, certain he was hallucinating.

She backed away from him, startled by his appearance.

“Esther, it’s me! Alistair!” he said, his eye half asleep. “It’s me!” He tried to smile but he coughed and blood drizzled down his lip. She kept moving away from him, but he aimlessly followed her.

She was his light and he was her moth. He just needed to say her name and it was his compass but why was she running away from him? Was it not her? A tragic thought emerged from his mind as she ran
away from him – even in his hallucinations, he could not be with her.

“Esther?” he pleaded, reaching his hand for her but he couldn't touch her. He could see her yet her silhouette was getting further and further away. He stumbled on to the ground, his arm reaching
to touch her, any small part of her but all he held was the air.

“Esther,” he whimpered and crawled on the ground, searching for her white dress. He couldn't see her anymore, everything was a blur. His hallucination had vanished. Even his insanity had
given up on him, he tried to laugh but it hurt. The memories of her leapt from his heart, rose to his eyes and they flooded down as tears.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to see her so much but…

“Alistair?” the voice was shaky, “is it really you?”

He lifted his head and saw her. It was Esther. She was in this forest with him, maybe insanity and his hallucination hadn't given up on him after all. “Esther!” exclaimed Alistair in a tired
breath. “Yes. It is me.”

She knelt down and moved him against the tree stump. She lay him on her lap. “What happened to you? Why are you all bandaged?” asked Emma.

“Don't worry about that. I’m just so… so glad you’re alive,” he said, smiling softly at the image of her face, he lifted his hand to caress her cheek. She felt real, he thought. It must be his last
reprieve before he died. “I know you aren't real but… but you’ve always been real to me. Everyone said you were alive, Cyrus, Rebecca and Ner but I couldn't believe their words until I saw you
myself.”

“Alistair what are you talking about? I am real. But Alistair, why are you bandaged? Who did this to you?” she asked.

But Alistair was lost in relief and insanity. “It doesn't matter anymore. You are alive. I hoped to see you, Esther. My Esther,” said Alistair, caressing her cheek, finding her so warm.

She removed his hand and he blinked unexpectedly.

“Alistair, I'm sorry but I am not Esther, I am Emma,” said Emma, softly, not quite sure if she had to be sorry. She was born Emma Dove not Esther but the look on his face made her feel sorry.

“What?” said Alistair, confused. He was slowly snapping back to reality. She wasn’t Esther? She was Emma? She wasn't a hallucination. And the discovery of reality hit his senses and he was filled
with bitter disappointment.

He closed his eyes and laughed in disbelief. Emma was alive but Esther... “Everything was a lie,” he said. “It was all a lie.”

Nothing had changed and everything he did was for naught. Finding Esther’s Spark and finding her body to bring her back. It was all a lie. Cyrus, Rebecca and even Ner had lied to him. She wasn't
his Esther. She did not have the same memories, she did not have the same Spark. She did not know who he was.

“Everything was for nothing,” laughed Alistair almost teary eyed, his heart sore, it was bleeding horribly. “All the theories, everything was a lie.” He looked at Emma – Emma. His mind had
already accepted she was Emma.

“You are Emma,” whispered Alistair. “You’ve always been Emma. Emma Dove.” He smiled as his eyes glazed with tears.

“Esther died in an accident, years ago,” he said. This was the first time he said it out loud and his heart pricked. “She died. Even though I love her so much, she’s dead and will never come back,”
he said, finally accepting it and his heart, it was bleeding, pricking and aching. “Every day I kept hoping, every day I kept glancing over my shoulder to see her, but… but she isn't coming back.”

“Alistair, hush,” said Emma, caressing his face softly, “I am here.”

“Esther?” Alistair’s voice trembled.

“Yes, Esther Rose almost Collins is here,” said Esther, smiling down at Alistair. It was the smile he loved and longed for.

“Have you been waiting long?” asked Esther.

He nodded, filled with hope, relief and too stunned to speak.

“My sweet Alistair, did you not say you would always find me? That we, me and you would always be forever?” she asked and continued to caress him. “You said my name a million times. A compass. Now
you have found me,” said Esther, leaning closer to Alistair. “Do you remember the train station?”

Alistair nodded. “I remember everything about you,” he said and gazed at her, lost. She wasn't a hallucination, she wasn't Emma Dove. She was Esther. His Esther.

She smiled again and his heart warmed. And then she kissed him even though he was wrapped in bandages and his lip dripped with blood. She kissed him and he closed his eyes, lost to her. Esther, his
heart and mind thought. I finally found you after all this time, I finally found you.

“Oh, isn't this such a happy scene!” interrupted Rebecca, applauding. “A love so true, it blooms in all seasons. It almost brings tears to my eyes and makes me want to vomit.”

She looked down at both of them. She had three Zoliqs with her, Guard Eric was one of them. “Eric, see Cyrus led us to something important. It was either we met the Son of Death or her. It’s an
awful shame that we met her first,” Rebecca spat out, disliking Esther. Rebecca never liked pretty girls.

“What do you want?” cried Esther, staring at Alistair in panic.

“You!” snarled Rebecca, she inspected Esther’s hair and disapproved. “Brown hair is for the plain,” she said and flicked her red hair back. “Hurry and take her before I kill her,” she instructed.
“I hate the colour of her eyes.”

The two Zoliqs obeyed, they pushed Alistair to the ground and grabbed Esther by the arms. Esther tried to break free but the two Zoliqs held her firmly.

“Alistair,” cried Esther. “Why are you doing this?”

“You’re a mouthy one,” said Rebecca, haughtily. “We are doing this because our Master wants us too.”

“Can't you think for yourselves?” shouted Esther.

“We do think for ourselves! Do you think we are savages?” Rebecca growled. “We thought for ourselves and followed Cyrus willingly. You are sure are mouthy. I hate mouthy people,” she said and
slapped Esther on the face.

“Stop!” protested Alistair.

Rebecca slapped Esther again, hard. “If you want me to stop, you need to make me. Do you know what Cyrus always says, ‘if you can’t make them, you’ve lost them,” mocked Rebecca.

Esther face was red and her lip was bleeding. Rebecca slapped her again and this time she fainted.

“I guess not,” said Rebecca, condescendingly. She smiled and continued slapping the unconscious Esther just for the sake of not stopping.

“Listen here, Alistair,” said Rebecca and bent down to speak to him. “Cyrus sends his love! Since an hour had passed he decided killing you was pointless from the beginning. Instead, we will
be taking Esther here.” She smiled at him and placed her boot on his chest. “That bandaged look doesn't suit you,” she said, disgusted. “Cyrus instructed you.” She dug her heel into his chest. “To
find this Son of Death and meet us at this location in six hours.” She dropped an origami graved shape note on his chest. “If you don't, she will definitely die.”

“No! Stop!” shouted Alistair, trying to get up but his body was too tired and burnt with injuries. “You can't take her away! I just found her!”

“Oh, Alistair! You are so dramatic!” said Rebecca. “We aren't taking her away. We are protecting her temporarily until we have to kill her,” she cackled and the three Zoliqs joined her.

Rebecca looked around, wondering if she missed anything then she looked up at Guard Eric. “Anything else?”

Guard Eric smiled sheepishly when Rebecca looked at him.

She just smiled back at him and winked. “Alight then, let's go!” she commanded.

“Wait!” screeched Alistair. “Let her go!” He held one of Rebecca’s boots.

“And where should we let her go to?” Rebecca asked sweetly and looked at Guard Eric. Guard Eric walked over to Alistair and stepped on his arm. It made a cracking sound and Alistair involuntarily
let go of Rebecca’s boot.

“We can't let her roam alone in the forest, Cyrus would not have a young damsel alone in the forest with a bandaged man!” Rebecca said drastically. “What would people think or say! Imagine the
gossip and Cyrus hates gossip!”

Rebecca looked down at Alistair. “Remember you have six hours,” she said, grimly.

“Esther!” Alistair screamed out. “Esther!” he cried desperately but Rebecca and her troupe had disappeared deep into the forest.

***

Ner ignited his fingertips, a red flame appeared and he burnt the letter in his hand. He watched it burn then simmer to a crisp, not leaving any scent or trace. Ah, he thought in his head, thinking
about Emma – now EDERS. He had to kill her but did not know where she was nor did he have any clue to her whereabouts. He hadn’t placed a tracking device on her and with her newly found combined
Spark powers – she could transmit anywhere in space and time. He could no longer force her to concentrate on mathematical equations and allow her to control her sporadic transmission like before.
It was different this time, she had not seen him even though he had stood right in front of her. She had looked directly into his eyes before disappearing but still did not see him.

He placed his hands into his pockets and gazed at the A3 Consultants from Arcane. They knelt before him, awaiting a command in the dark oily room.

“Griffin,” said Ner, contemplating a solution to the Council’s EDERS problem and Emma’s sporadic transmission.

Griffin nodded in the dark as he stood next to Ner. He eyed the three beings in front of them, they had no faces and their bodies were as black as the dark room. They could have been part of the
darkness.

Griffin snapped out of his own analysis of Un, Zwei and Tres and concentrated on Ner’s words. “Is that the reason she suddenly disappeared?”

“Yes, she is unstable. Those electrical currents flowed through her and she vanished. Even with my words, she could not control it,” said Ner.

“We need to find her!” Griffin exclaimed. “She must be frightened and who knows what else.” He frantically looked around, as if the solution was somewhere in the room. “We have to find her. She
might be in danger, she hasn’t got anyone.”

Ner had read a book on humans and their relationships. Humans had family, parents and at times siblings. The books stated that there was a strong bond between families. It described the bond as
love, a genuine concern for another being and in the case of family, the love was stronger because the foundation was trust. And Ner kind of understood trust, it was like obligation. The Council
and his father trusted him to fulfil his duty. He watched Griffin pace around the room in alarm. Hmm, he thought, if the bond of siblings was trust then it would be conclusive to conclude
that Emma Dove would trust Griffin enough that she would not sporadically transmit to foreign worlds and that would be the perfect time to kill her.

“Correct, Griffin,” said Ner, with new found interest. “We must find Emma and once we do. You must convince her to stay in this world.”

“Stay in this world?” asked Griffin and he stopped pacing.

“You are siblings, she trusts you and you have bond,” explained Ner and then he recited the words in the book he read. “A bond is a deep connection between humans, it is unbreakable especially if
of the same blood.”

Griffin nodded. “You’re right. Once we find her, I will convince her to stay in this world.” Griffin said, sounding positive. “Are we going to find her soon?”

Ner arched his eyebrow. “Soon enough,” replied Ner and he turned to face the kneeling three.

“There is an imbalance in the universe,” he began. “It is caused by the undead, these beings need to be stopped and thus your mission involves their extinction,” he explained. “Since only the Clock
and this Gold Pocket Watch can identify them.” He lifted the Gold Pocket Watch. “I will signal them out to you. There will be black flames above their heads.” He placed the Gold Pocket Watch back
into his pocket. “I know the location of the undead particularly one undead being. The Vampire, Alistair Collins. We will find him first and kill him. One of you will need to return to Arcane to
report our status. Is there no way you can link to each other and provide a communication channel on both sides?” asked Ner.

“Yes. We can.” said Un, her voice was heard yet not heard at the same time.

“I will return to Arcane,” stated Zwei with the same effect as Un’s voice.

“Zwei and I will be the communication channels,” added Tres, his voice a replica of his comrades.

“Tell the Council, we have found the location of the undead and we will eradicate all of them then we will kill the Variation. And I will return to Arcane within four months,” said Ner.

All three of them nodded their heads smoothly almost like they weren't moving. First Tres rose to his feet, then Zwei and finally Un. Tres and Zwei stepped forward and began an exchange of masks –
a communication channel procedure.

They faced each other and removed silver wires from the darkness. They quickly coiled the wires around each other, the wires tightened. Only Tres and Zwei left hands were visible, the rest of their
bodies were coiled and wrapped with wires. Each of their hands held the end string of the wires. The wires glistened silver in the dark, then each of them pulled hard. The wires sliced into their
bodies and masks smoothly, the masks cracked and their bodies split into an oily black-reddish substance then the substance joined together. Half of Zwei was attached to half of Tres and so were
their other halves. Their masks were still scattered on the floor, once they were joined the masks were pieced together and latched on their faces.

“Please call me Zwes,” said the newly formed halved body of Tres and Zwei.

“Please call me Trei, said the second formed halved body of Tres and Zwei.

Ner nodded.

“How did all of you transport to Earth from Arcane?” asked Ner

“Only one of us could,” Un said. “We combined as one.”

“And if Zwes returns to Arcane, there is no way of you or Trei returning until the transmission system is fixed?” asked Ner.

All three of them nodded.

“It should be fine,” said Ner, thinking that the communication channel should be sufficient. “We should leave now.”

The newly first halves, Zwes dissolved into the oil below whilst Ner snapped his fingers, forcing Griffin to teleport with him and Un and second halves, Trei dissolved into the oil following Ner to
where Alistair was.